


Dream Thief

by oftheShatteredSun



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Overwatch - Freeform, Slow Burn, Young Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, magic headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-09 14:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10414410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftheShatteredSun/pseuds/oftheShatteredSun
Summary: Hanzo has always had trouble sleeping at night, his dreams blurred black and white films that leave him exhausted come morning. It’s only the sparks of color and occasional technicolor scenes that break the monochrome monotony that truly bring him ease. That is until a particular recurring character gives him a run for his money.





	1. The Desert

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long while, and this work does not have a beta reader... but this little idea has been floating around for a little while. Not everything is panned out just yet, so rating/warnings/tags will be updated as the story continues.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

Sleep eluded him. 

He laid awake for over an hour now, staring at the back of his eyelids and the ceiling when all else failed, trying desperately to clear his mind of the day. He did not wish to think of his studies or the appointments he would have to attend in just a handful of hours with his father. All of that could wait until morning.

At the moment, all Hanzo craved was sleep and rest, and yet it would be another hour or so before he finally drifted off.

His dreams were void of color and hardly filled with anything worth noting. Most were just flashes of school, the view from his father’s office window while it rained, the finely sculpted sand in the garden on their property, and other scenery he had encountered in the last few weeks. All of it mixed together in a short monochrome student film that he would have given two out of five stars. Boring, repetitive, and stress inducing if he allowed himself to dwell too long in the dreams of school and business grooming.

It was only the momentary glimpses of his mother and occasional memories of when him and his brother were younger that flickers of color came to him. These dreams he dared to linger in, clinging to his mother’s blue and yellow robes while she hummed a tune he had long since forgotten. Memories of him and his brother, who’s hair was a vibrant green and spiky, blatantly disobeyed their father by skipping out of training, even if it meant their punishment would be heavy words and disappointed glances.

Those dreams too faded in the short amount of time allotted to them, moving on to more that were either brief or happened so fast Hanzo could only make out static as if the channel had been changed. 

The scene before him shifted once more, the backdrop unfamiliar and out of place with a bright blue sky and terracotta mountains lining his vision in full technicolor.

It was a desert and the heat of it came washing over him. Instantly craving a glass of water, Hanzo reached for the hair tie on his wrist to get the long black strands off his neck and back before they could attract more sunlight. Fanning himself, Hanzo tried to figure out what direction he was facing, hand up to catch the glare of the sun which seemed to be right over him with hardly a shadow under him.

Momentarily blinded by the sun he did not notice the tumbleweed rolling by or the figure that hadn’t been there seconds before.

“Draw!” called a voice quickly followed by the firing of a gun.

Hanzo shot up in bed, panting and heart racing with hair matted to his forehead and neck. Instinctively he slapped the alarm clock next to him to silence it, but it had not gone off yet. He still had a little while before the alarm, and yet there he sat awake and trying to come down from a dream that made no sense.

As quickly as the desert flashed in his mind, it faded and he threw off the blankets to ready himself for the day of travel with his father.


	2. Phone Booth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dream leads Hanzo to the brightly colored desert. This time, a stranger is there to meet him.

He did not like hotels. The beds were too uncomfortable to sleep in and kept him tossing and turning, endlessly searching for sleep. Whether the bed was soft and plush, or firm with crisp sheets, Hanzo lay awake for a long time until his body finally gave out and let him rest.

In his dreams things weren't any more comfortable. He tensed as scenes came in and out of view, reliving the day in the large office building, seated just behind his father. Through black and white dreams he floated, in and out of memories of the day without a single splotch of color. 

This wasn't what he wanted. Hanzo wanted rest, not to be trapped in another closed office space for eight more hours.

It felt like years before he found himself in an almost familiar technicolor desert with blue skies, stark white clouds, and the ever present red-brown mountains in the distance. The sun sat directly overhead and sweltering. 

An arm went up to shield his face with the sleeve of his jinbei from the glare so he could take a real look around as a wave of deja vu hit him. 

Cracked asphalt started a few meters away, the only sign of civilization that seemed to be around for miles. Nowhere to go, he headed down the lone road and began to follow it.

Within minutes of walking, Hanzo started to sweat and wish he had brought water with him, though he could not exactly remember how he had got himself lost in this desert. The question and answer seemed irrelevant as the scenery moved much faster than his pace, going unnoticed by the man who worried too much about pulling back his hair. He tightened the knot as a large sign came into view, and with a sense of curiosity and desperation to find shade, Hanzo ran towards it.

“Welcome to Deadlock Gorge,” he read the faded poster out loud, hands on his knees and winded just a bit. The billboard thankfully did cast a thin shadow, though small, he stood in it as best he could.

There still wasn't anything else around, just the large billboard and him.

Brushing the sweat from his forehead, Hanzo sighed, shifting his height to lean against the sign and see if it might hold him. The whole thing shuddered and shrieked, but it held.

“This is just perfect,” he spat venom at the desert. Cursing now, he kicked at the dirt and rocks around him since there wasn’t any other way to get his frustration out, most certainly looking the fool.

It took him some time to calm, only then noticing that the shadow had grown on the ground around him along with the sounds of someone snickering overhead. 

Sun still stuck at high noon, he squinted and held up a hand. “What are you laughing at?”

Another snicker and a snort. “Oh, darlin’. Kickin’ around and huffin’ ain’t gonna get you off the Route.”

The Route? He looked away from the sun, his hand not helping much, and backed up to see just who the hell was being so cryptic with him. Once away from the sign he caught sight of a brown hat and a large smile that sat under it, all of it attached to some man who didn’t seem at all bothered by just how hot it was.

Hanzo instantly felt annoyed by this stranger as he continued to snicker and sit atop the billboard swinging his legs. “I just want some water,” he huffed with a scowl.

“Aw, shucks!” The man dropped off the edge and not so gracefully landed on the ground, stumbling back against the faded poster before straightening up. “If ya wanted water, all ya had to do was ask.” He held out a strap attached to a canteen with a smile.

Hesitant, his gaze shifted between the offering and the man. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ came to mind as he politely took it and made quick work of the cap before taking a few deep glupes. His eyes never left the stranger, looking over the red bandana tied around his neck and the wide brimmed hat that had brown hair poking out from under it. 

He still watched him while wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of a hand and when he returned the canteen to him, he hummed a quiet, “thank you.”

“Any time, pardner.” He took a swig himself and sighed.

Silence fell between them, just the two staring at one another, Hanzo suspicious and the stranger all smiles. He looked like some sort of character right out of a book, or maybe an old TV show or movie, even. It was almost comical, but he didn’t feel the need to laugh about it. At least he wasn’t alone, and this person might know how to get to town or find a phone.

A little light bulb went off with his train of thought because it was just that simple; “Do you know the way to town or have a phone by chance?”

The other man rubbed at the back of his head, hat moving up and down as he thought about the question. “Well, yeah, o’ course. Town’s about an hour that way,” he paused to point down the paved road Hanzo had come by and then behind him towards the sign. “Well I ain’t got a phone, but the gas station does.”

It almost seemed silly that he had not noticed the building just a little ways off from the billboard. He could have sworn it wasn’t there before, but that didn’t matter. If it had a phone, then he could call his father and get this mess sorted out and get back to Hanamura.

The gas station, Big Earl’s according to the large sign, was empty and rundown, with old fashioned looking pumps that seemed to be caked with dirt and faded in color from the desert sun. It was a miracle something like this even existed still, especially after the war, maybe even before then. Thankfully Hanzo was able to escape the sun under the gas station’s awning.

There didn’t seem to be a tenant, no hover cars or diesel trucks, but there was a phone as promised just around the corner.

It was a pay phone.

Hanzo blinked, the stranger leaning against the glass housing of the old push dial phone with such a large smile that didn’t see a single issue with the set up. 

It still took coins.

“I.. I don’t have any money,” he frowned now, touching the pockets of his jinbei that held nothing.

“That’s alright, I got ya, pardner!” After a tip of his hat, the stranger rummaged in the pocket of his jeans a moment before he procured the right amount to drop in the machine before he picked up the corded phone to hand over.

Hanzo put the phone to his ear and dialed out his father’s private number, one he had never needed to use before since he spent all of his time with the man. Wanting some privacy, he turned away from the stranger who got the hint and walked off, whistling to himself.

The phone rang and rang, and rang.. and rang.

The tone grew louder and buzzed in his ears until it ripped him from the technicolor dream and into the dull hotel with his alarm going off and heart pounding.

It took him just a few seconds to realize he was awake now, the desert gone from memory, and reached over to silence the alarm on his phone that woke him for the early morning flight back to Japan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe, though I could be wrong, that a jinbei is a type of traditional Japanese clothing mostly worn around the house or at summer time festivals. Since it's hot in a desert, I thought it seemed fitting. A picture for reference https://www.samue-e.com/en/img/1358_2.jpg


	3. The Panorama

The flight from San Francisco to Tokyo was going to be a long one. He had taken it many times and each time it was the same; he sat behind his father, eyes turned out the window where the sun was just coming up over the cityscape, and as the plane rose, he watched the buildings grow smaller and smaller. When the morning sun became too bright, Hanzo closed the shutter and settled into his seat, eyes closed and hoping the stewardess would leave him be so he might hopefully catch a few more hours of sleep.

His neck still hurt from the hotel pillows, stiff and sore with a knot forming from the perpetual tension his father set in him. Hanzo silently wiggled and adjusted in the chair until he was finally comfortable, or as best he could manage on a plane. Even in the somewhat relaxed position, it took him a few minutes to doze off.

He felt the sun before it touched his eyelids, squeezing them shut to try and hide from it, but there was nowhere to run. 

He stood in the phone booth, receiver in hand and staring past the imprinted metal numbers. Hanzo forgot why he had been on the phone, brows furrowed in confusion while he tried to recall the last few minutes.

Ah, yes. He called his father to ask for a ride, but it had gone to voicemail. It seemed Hanzo was on his own.

The phone booth was quickly becoming hot and stuffy. He set the phone back on the hook and took a few step backwards out of it and right into the other man who had apparently been hovering much too close. “Excuse me,” he said with just a little bite in his tone.

“Sorry.” The stranger gave him room to breathe and shoved both hands into his pockets. “Just hope things are alright. You were in there for a while.”

“It went to voicemail.” Not that it was any of the stranger's concern. “I will try again later.”

The man rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced around, looking guilty for some reason. “Well, that was the last of my change, an’ seein’ as you don’t got any yourself, you're gonna hav’ta hit up the Panorama.”

Of course. The stranger had given him change to use the pay phone since Hanzo had none of his own.

“Where and what is the Panorama?” If it was his only salvation from this god forsaken desert, then so be wherever and whatever it was.

“It's a little diner out by the railroads about a mile down the road, right up along the gorge with the damnedest view!”

The way the man was grinning had Hanzo thinking it might just be about the most interesting thing in the area. ‘How dreadful’, he thought. This barren landscape was not for him. He could already feel his skin burning and sweat beading all around his hairline, yet this man was neither bothered by the sun nor heat. Hanzo found himself envious of the wide brimmed hat and wishing for portable shade of his own.

“Oh, don't look so glum, pardner! It ain't that far.” In some friendly fashion, he lightly smacked Hanzo’s arm and started to walk down the crack paved road, hand up to beckon him to follow.

There was really nowhere else to go or anything else to do in his situation. He was at the mercy of this total stranger and followed him out into the sun, out into the desert and among the cacti and prickly bushes that lined the crumbling asphalt. Already he missed the shade of the gas station but pressed on, determined to get to this diner that might not only have a phone, but hopefully spare him a glass of water as well.

Hanzo did not wish to talk, it felt like a waste of energy and made his mouth dry. Why hadn’t either of them brought water? Surely the gas station had a tap somewhere. He glanced back towards it, but already the Big Earl’s sign was small in the distance along with the welcoming billboard. Too late now, they were well on their way towards this diner and a free phone call.

Yet, the stranger did feel the need to open his mouth and gab away. He went on and on about the gorge and something else. Honestly, he wasn’t paying any attention as the scene around them moved quickly, the broken road leading dangerously close to a cliff side that dropped off into the gorge. 

Not one to be afraid of heights, Hanzo paused to look down into the desert ravine, a dried up creek bed cut deep into the ground at least a couple hundred meters down where trees had once clung to the life baring water. Now they all lay cracked and broke as the road he stood on, and yet life persisted in the heat and sun with what could only be more cacti and dusty bushes. This landscape still filled him with dread and he continued on behind the stranger, ignoring the railroad bridge suspended above them and focused on not passing out from the sun that never seemed to move from straight overhead.

It wasn’t much further down the road when it gave way to concrete steps and metal hand rails where an old fashioned diner sat perched so close to the edge that it almost seemed to dangle off the side of the cliff. Sure enough, a large red sign read ‘Panorama Diner’ atop the awning he moved under for shade.

“I hope she’s here today,” the stranger seemed almost excited. “Come on, slowpoke.” He held open the door, which Hanzo did not hesitate in stepping forward once he felt a wave of air conditioning come from inside.

Once in the building he could finally relax, at least just a little. He shivered with the air blowing on the sweat that he set to wiping from his forehead with the back of a hand. The stranger waved a hand at him to follow, moving past several tables and chairs filled sparsely with customers and a jukebox that leaned against a wall, and poured himself into a seat at the counter.

The double doors burst open to a woman with skin rich as the desert and braided salt and peppered hair carrying a bin of glasses supported by her hip. A smile grew on her lips as she set the bin down on the counter where the stranger leaned. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she cooed, reaching over the counter to grab the man by his cheeks and squish them together.

This little interaction made his stomach tighten, almost embarrassed as if it were somehow supposed to be private, despite such an open display of affection. Hanzo felt his face color without the help of the sun for once as he watched the two.

The stranger simply beamed and laughed and slowly pried her hands off his face. “Aw, why ya gotta embarrass me infront of my friend here, mamá?”

“Oh, _mijo_ , that is my job!”

“I thought your job was lookin’ pretty and waitin’ tables?” This earned him a slap with a rag and huff from the woman, presumably his mother. “I kid, I kid. Just lookin’ pretty.”

That seemed to satisfy her and so she turned her attention to Hanzo, smiling with deep laugh lines and crow's feet that suited her comfortably with age. Looking at her this way, he could definitely tell that she was the stranger's mother, but also he found her smile contagious and soon wore his own to match.

“Howdy,” she chuckled then looked between the two. “What can I do for you boys?”

“Somethin’ to eat an’ drink? An’ can my friend use the phone? He's gotta call for a ride.” She was already filling two glasses with ice chips and water before he even finished.

“You know where the phone is, _mijo_. I’ll go see about some burgers and _papas_ for you two.” And without another word she disappeared back into the swinging double doors that lead to what could only be the kitchen.

Hanzo hardly caught what they were saying as his eyes had fallen on the already sweating glass of water in front of him as he slipped onto the stool next to his new ‘friend’. The man beside him already had his glass up for a drink or two, but the moment Hanzo held his up, he started to down the whole thing in one go. He didn't care that little trickles of it ran over the side of his mouth and chin, he was not acclimated to the desert and thusly guzzled the water and couldn't wait for another glass.

The man whistled and slid the rest of his glass over to him. “Better slow down or you'll give yourself a stomach ache chuggin’ that down.”

Under normal circumstances, he would have refused the other man’s drink, but he was still thirsty and running on empty, and so he grabbed the offered glass to drink just a bit slower. The cold water sloshed in his stomach and indeed would give him a stomach ache if he kept at it, especially if the woman was actually coming back with food. Hanzo cleaned his mouth and chin with a napkin, muttered a soft apology and then thanked him for the water just as quietly.

“No worries,” the man hummed with a spin in his seat. He faced the windows that overlooked the gorge for a moment before spinning again to look at his friend. “My name’s Jesse, Jesse James McCree.”

A warm skinned and callused hand was held out to him, and he took it to politely, yet firmly, shake with a small bow of his head. “It is a pleasure to know the name of my desert rescuer. I am Shimada Hanzo, but if we are to be friends; you may call me Hanzo.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Hanzo.” He smiled wide at him a moment before jumping slightly in his seat. “Oh, yeah! You needed the phone.” Jesse leaned over the counter near the register close by and down behind it, fumbling a moment until he produced a land line phone. “I’m gonna go see about gettin’ the jukebox singin’ while you use that.” He gave a little wink and slid off his barstool before meandering towards the machine they had past on the way in.

Hanzo let him leave and focused on the phone. His stomach twisted at the thought of calling his father, only for it to go to voicemail again. While he didn’t like this desert so much, he did not mind the diner nor the ice chips he currently let melt in his mouth.

A slow guitar started up from the machine Jesse went to mess with as he picked up the phone, fingers quickly tapping the number pad. He held it up to his ear. It took a moment for the line to connect, the sound of the dial and then the numbers being punched in lagging behind. Hanzo twisted a finger around the phone cord nervously.

It rang several times before the mechanical operator came on, apologizing for the missed call and asking the caller to leave a name and number.

Hanzo didn’t leave a voicemail, he simply hung up and dialed again, and again.

Each time it went to voicemail, and each time his stomach grew tighter and tighter with anxiety.

He tried one more time, but it felt like a lost cause as it just kept ringing and ringing, and ringing; until the other line was finally picked up.

\--

Jesse braced a forearm on the jukebox as he watched the old record inside the glass case slowly spin and the needle danced between the vinyl grooves. Sounds of the diner slowly gave way to silence until it was just him and the music. He dared to glance back at the counter, his new friend gone with the phone laying off the hook, the double doors closed and the whole place empty and run down. Bullet holes littered the walls and counters now, the once painted walls chipped and cracked, posters torn and tattered. It looked as he last saw it, no longer the perfect memory of his youth and now just the nightmare of a painful reminder.

With a heavy sigh, he shut his eyes. Gabriel would be waking him up soon for their morning routine, he had slept long enough.

It was time to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, all the kudos, and kind comments! And to those on the McHanzo discord for your words of encouragement <3  
> Special thanks to my friends putting up with me shoving this fic in their faces and beta reading for me <3
> 
> Little Spanish translations  
> Mijo; son  
> Papas; short term slang for french fries


	4. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks go by, New Year's at hand, and Hanzo is thrown into another dream realm that strikes him deeper than any have ever before.

Winter vacation was not something he would have classified as a ‘vacation’. He spent the week with his father in various meetings for business and clan discussions for the quickly approaching New Year's. Hanzo did all what was expected of him without argue and charmed his way through meetings when he was allowed to speak, though rare as it was.

He had done so well in fact, that on New Year’s eve he was allotted free time to himself and spent it alone and in his room with the window curtains open. From the second floor he could see the cherry blossoms that always seemed to be in bloom even in the dead of winter and thick blanket of snow that covered them. Though the trees were beautiful, Hanzo wished for true spring and the warmth it brought. For now he crawled under a warm blanket at the foot of his bed while the cold crept into his room through the exposed glass. 

Amidst daydreaming of spring and contemplating a nap, there was a knock at his door that he ignored at first, but when the knock came again, he sighed, “Come in.”

Hanzo didn't realize someone entered until he felt the bed dip and a weight slumped against his side. Without even looking he knew it was his brother, yet he still glanced at him. It seemed that he had brought his own blanket with him, probably still in his pajamas and cold just like Hanzo was.

“No plans for New Year's eve?” Hanzo hummed.

“I cancelled them.” Genji wiggled to get comfortable and crossed his legs. “I thought since father was out with the counsel, maybe the two of us could stay in and hang out?”

Hanzo chewed the inside of his cheek while considering this, pretending to take a long time thinking about it. “Lucky for you, I didn’t make plans-- though, I doubt I will be very entertaining tonight.”

“Nonsense, Hanzo!” The younger man nudged him. “You don’t need to be a host tonight. It’s been a long time since it’s been just the two of us. We just need some food, the TV and some games, and we’ll be gold!”

Though he smiled at the mentioned plan, Genji was right. It was an unspoken truth between the two that it had been a long time and they were slowly growing distant with age. Since Hanzo started college three years ago, he had been swept under his father’s wing when not in class or studying, the two of them spending fewer and fewer days together. They hardly trained with one another, and even the door that linked their bedrooms had been locked months ago. Hanzo was the one to do it, mostly in the need for some reminisce of privacy. But he also wanted, and sometimes needed, to be left alone so he could sleep and recharge, not run on empty from attempting to match his brother’s enthusiasm for the night.

While he would definitely love to do nothing but sleep the evening away, it was the look on his brother’s face that brought down some of his walls. Hanzo slowly allowed a smile to come to him. “The kitchen downstairs will be making dinner soon, and who’s to say we can’t bring it up here and eat?”

A light burned within Genji’s eyes in this small victory. He laughed, loud and genuine, something that Hanzo had not been privy to for some time and he found it contagious. “Fuck yeah!” 

Immediately the younger man set out a plan for the evening, nothing too wild as it simply involved unlocking the door that linked their rooms so he could grab a few things. Genji brought a game system and several games for them to play. It had been ages since the two sat around and stayed up all night together, laughing and talking and just being two brothers. 

There was no clan, no family business; just Hanzo and Genji bumping shoulders as they trash talked one another during their racing game.

Food eventually made its way up stairs from the kitchen to the hungry young men. Hanzo did his best to keep his side of the conversation away from business or family matters and ended up letting Genji run the show. He told Hanzo stories of the arcade he started to frequent and how retro games were coming back into the scene, about the last party he went to, and even school. Genji would be graduating from high school in the coming spring and was excited for college, even if he had no idea what he was going to study.

The New Year’s countdown was missed thanks to their game, but neither of them seemed to care as they continued like that for hours. The two brothers talked for a long while, catching up and playing games until their eyes hurt and the night grew later.

Long after their food was gone and the fireworks outside had finished, Hanzo turned off the game so they could watch TV and let it fill the silence that sometimes overcame them. It was well past three in the morning when their energy began to run on empty. 

Genji faded out first, curled up in a blanket at the foot of the bed. Hanzo turned the television down low so his brother could sleep, just background noise while he himself sat propped up against the headboard trying to pay attention to show that was on. He had been dozing for a while now, and so when sleep finally came for him, he didn’t fight it.

Hanzo drifted into the realm of dreams, skipping over the desert that he remembered previously visiting, and though he would have liked to stop and check in on his friend, there was an old memory that called to him with the tune of a soft hum.

He knew that song, he knew the woman who hummed it even though her back was turned to him. She sat on a plush bench in front of a large vanity and mirror with a brush in hand, slowly combing through her long black hair. Her robes were just as he remembered, several shades of blue that depicted ocean waves and gold accents. 

For a few precious moments Hanzo was able to simply watch his mother from afar until she spotted him in the mirror and smiled.

After setting down the brush once all the strands were straight, she reached for the neatly folded scarf on the table. She took her time gather the mass of hair high up on her head, wrapped the gold fabric around it and then tied it off in a neat pony tail. Once satisfied, she turned back to Hanzo with a smile that he had not seen in what felt like forever.

She was just as beautiful and strong as he remember-- yes, remembered. 

His mother, Mizuki, had passed away when he and Genji were very young. The pain of it surfaced in his chest, and as if she could sense it, she held out her hands to him and beckoned him to sit with her.

“Han-chan, come.” She slid down the bench to make room for him and as he sat she took both of his hands in her own. “Talk to me, I miss your voice, little one.”

Hanzo tried to smiled, tried to laugh, because he was not so little anymore. He was nearing his twenty-second birthday, but supposed that he and his brother would always be ‘little’ in the mind of their mother.

Yet another painful thought; that she was not real and that he was in a dream. 

He squeezed her hands to ground himself. They felt real, warm and soft and delicate. For some reason it just made his chest burn all the more.

“I miss you, okaa-san,” he finally spoke, voice no more than a whisper. “I miss you every day.” It was near impossible for him to hold back tears or the thickness in his voice. The confession would probably not be a surprise to anyone he knew, but it was not something he spoke out loud, not even in his dreams, until now.

His strong features crumbled and he leaned forward til his forehead rested against her shoulder, and as he remembered her consoling him as a child, her arms wrapped around him, hand stroking his long hair while she softly soothed him.

“Han-chan, I am here, it’s okay.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and sighed, holding him tighter. “I am always here.”

He truly wanted to believe, wanted her to be there when he woke up, to fill the castle with light and songs once again, but she was just a memory now. One that he clung to.

They stayed like that in silence for so long Hanzo was sure hours had passed and his tears dried. He enjoyed her being close, the comfort her kind and loving touches brought him, and the smell of her perfume that had not faded from memory yet.

She gently helped him sit up by himself and pushed his long hair and bangs behind his ears, wearing a warm smile while he tried to clean his face. When he went to apologize, she let him and simply smiled as she took one of his hands in both of her own.

“When I say that I am always here, I mean it, Han-chan.” She let his hand go and reached up, undoing the long golden scarf she had just put in her hair. “I may not be within reach, but I will always follow you and Genji. You two are the stars to my moon, from the day you born, forever more.”

While speaking, she slowly wound the long seigaiha scarf around his palm, over and over, not too tight but comfortably so, tucking the tail ends into the folds on his palm. When finished, he rubbed the silk fabric between his fingers and sighed, eyes down on the familiar gold that always accented her dark hair from his childhood. He closed his fist and wore a solemn smile.

“Thank you, okaa-san.. thank you.”

She planted a kiss to his forehead and sat back to smile once again, looking at him with what could best be described as pride in her eyes.

His attention was stolen from their moment when a deep ringing of a bell sounded, his dream seamlessly transitioning away from his mother to another destination.

Hanzo stood from his seat, gripping his mother’s scarf tighter as he walked to the open window and between curtains that ruffled in the breeze. Outside lay a path that lead to the gardens and eventually to the family shrine and bell. He felt a tug within his chest now as the bell tolled again, the ringing calling him from the window and room, down the stairs and out onto the wooden porch.

It wasn’t until he stepped onto the stone path and into the snow that the cold hit him. It was almost numbing, a stark contrast to another dream that flickered in his memory. He focused on this dream and ignored the cold while pressing forward, cutting his way down the path and snow towards the shrine that stood alone.

In the morning when he and Genji woke, they would be expected to come to this very spot. Every year their father and the elders on the counsel would come to ring the bell and every year the spirits would wake to grant them another year of protection and guidance.

Hanzo approached and knelt to pray as the shrine fell into silence. There were many things he prayed for in the next coming year, all of them whispered quietly on his lips before he sat back up. The dragons etched into the metal did not stare back at him. They were carved into the metal, frozen and perpetually trying to eat the other’s tail in a symbol that matched the legends his father used to speak of.

With an undefinable urge, he stepped forward and touched the bell, fingers following the outline of one dragon before reaching the other to trace. The dark metal was worn, and rightly so as it had been cast centuries ago by his ancestors, but their family had taken very good care of it. Above him hung a large striking mallet, a wooden log bigger than himself was needed to make the bell sing, and yet it had been ringing upon his arrival.

Hanzo curiously struck the bell with a knuckle and nearly jumped out of his skin when it not only rang, but a bolt of electricity arched between his hand and the metal. There was no pain, but that didn’t stop him from yelping in surprise or taking a few steps back.

And then something happened that Hanzo found even harder believe.

From under the bell something hummed in tune with the echoing ring, a shadow of something large as the bell itself, undulating. As the ringing began to fade, he heard little tinks against the metal, like nails tapping against it-- not nails, claws. A large blue head of a creature peered over the top of the bell and down at him, curious yellow eyes surrounded by blue scales and white wisps of hair where horns protruded. A tail that presumably belonged to the dragon wrapped around the bell, easily twice as long as he was tall. 

As the two stared at one another, something brushed his leg and tore his attention from the creature to yet another one that began to crawl out from behind him. The dragon sat up on their hind legs, front arms curled against their chest, head tilted as they too stared at Hanzo. It took mere moments before the other dragon joined their twin, both sitting in front of him and bringing them all to eye level with one another.

It felt surreal, and yet not. He glanced between the two pairs of yellow eyes. He could feel them looking through him, past his flesh and bones and into him. They pierced places that had not seen the light of day outside of his dreams.

And then one of them spoke.

_'I always run, but never walk. I often murmur, yet never talk. I have a bed, but never sleep. I have a mouth, but never eat; who am I?'_ The question came from a voice inside his head that tingled in his ears.

Hanzo didn’t understand at first, and it seemed that whichever dragon that asked began to repeat themself and also tilted their head, waiting for an answer patiently.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally answered, “A river.”

_'Kawa,'_ the dragon dipped their head forehead, eyes closed. _'That is my name.'_

He reached out, fingers fanning open to run through the white mane and between their horns, pleasantly surprised when they leaned up into the touch with a deep, gravelly purr. He smiled and repeated their name out loud a few times as if putting it to memory.

_'You cannot control me. I am not real, though sometimes you believe me. I come back every night, but am often forgotten; who am I?'_ Another riddle came from the other dragon whose tail swayed behind them while waiting for his answer.

Again, it took him a few moments to answer, but this time he had more confidence. “A dream.”

_'Yume,'_ the voice of the dragon purred, eyes closing as they too leaned down. _'That is my name.'_

He mirrored his actions with Yume, petting the wispy head of hair and smiling wider with each repeat of their name. 

Something warm swelled within his chest, his heart feeling like it might burst. Pride, love, and joy all seized him, the emotions boiling up so fast that his eyes stung with tears and he did nothing to stop himself from crying.

Kawa and Yume; his dragons.

The twin dragons circled him, electricity and air flowing around him and messing up his hair, but he didn’t care. He basked in their blessing and cherished it.

And then another voice came to him, one that was not his own or theirs. It was Genji, calling his name.

Confused, he looked to the dragons, both pairs of yellow eyes glowing bright until everything in his vision turned white.

Hanzo shot up in bed. Well, he tried to. Genji was there to grab his shoulders and steady him, the look on his face worried. “Hanzo, you’re awake. It’s alright.”

Heart pounding and head equally so, Hanzo grabbed his brother’s arm to steady himself. The whole room was spinning. He felt a little sea sick and gasped, a sudden sob coming over him when he saw it, the golden scarf still wrapped around his hand that gripped his brother’s sleeve.

“G-Genji, I.. I saw her-- I saw them!” He choked out through a sob and gripped his brother’s sleeve even tighter. He began to babble bits and pieces of his dream, feeling as though he’d gone mad with just how vivid everything had been and how real it all felt.

When he mentioned the dragons Genji butted in with a grin so wide it surely him him to do so. “Hanzo!” He cried and all but tackling his brother onto the bed as he laughed loudly. “I am so glad, brother! I am so proud!” He squeezed Hanzo until he couldn’t breathe and then let him go so he could finally speak.

“Kawa and Yume. That’s their names. They felt so real, Genji. Like they were really there.” Hanzo felt like he might cry again but he was smiling up into his eyes.

“That’s because they were.” His brother sat back on his knees and rolled up his right sleeve to expose a dragon tattoo Hanzo already knew to be hidden there. Genji had been through the ceremony already, blessed years ago when the dragons came to him during his childhood; though the elders waited until Genji turned sixteen to set the blessing in with ink.

Genji ran his hand over the dragon that wound around his forearm and whispered to it, and slowly as if he were still dreaming, the dragon began to move, rising from the ink and coming into existence. They were a bright green and much smaller than the two in Hanzo’s dream, but still they looked at him with yellow eyes that pierced him.

In the soft green glow from his brother’s dragon that did little more than curl around Genji’s neck like a scarf, Hanzo smiled and reached to take his brother's hands. Besides occasional training sessions together and the few nights of hanging out, they finally had something to connect them once again.

“Can you show me how to summon them, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though McCree isn't in this one, it's an important filler, and I promise McCree will be returning in the next chapter!
> 
> This chapter went through ~~several~~ a few rewrites, but thankfully I was able to finish and be happy with it.  
>  ALSO! A special thank you to [Tobi](http://voibi.tumblr.com/)! For putting up with beta reading this one and cheering me on late at night ;w;


	5. Sunsets and Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing pressure from the counsel to summon his dragons has Hanzo running thin. He misses sleep and the warm desert.

The weeks following New Year’s were laden with heavy snowfall and growing pressure. Thankfully his father relaxed his workload and travel, allowing Hanzo more free time to spend with Genji, something both of them greatly enjoyed and appreciated.

Yet the counsel had other plans. They shoved their way into his everyday life, observing him much more closely with each passing day and calling upon him at random times. They were concerned as his dragons had appeared to him in a dream, and yet he could not summon them.

“I’m trying,” he told them, focusing solely on Yume and Kawa, and yet the two did not heed his call no matter how desperate he was. This earned him raised brows and disapproving glances from some, others turning their eyes down while taking note. 

Thankfully Genji and his father were not among those judging him, if anything; they were the reason he did not give up.

“They will come in time,” his father promised with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You must be patient. Remember, it took Genji over a year to call Kasumi.”

This did nothing to sedate Hanzo, though. It just made him even angrier with himself, an anger that soon turned to shame and had him shutting down. Genji was eleven when his dragon came to him and twelve when he properly summoned Kasumi. Of course it took him time, he had been young! But Hanzo was nearing twenty-two, he was a man and well learned, practiced in many things.. just not this.

He struggled internally and physically with summoning them. It was something that should just happen, should have come natural, and yet it wasn’t. Hanzo did everything Genji said; he breathed, he relaxed, he thought of nothing but the dragons, and yet no sign of them. 

As the weeks turned into months, snow giving way to spring, the pressure from the counsel was becoming a heavy burden that weighed him down and affected his sleep, or rather the lack of sleep he was getting.

Hanzo couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone an entire night without waking up several times, or the last time he woke with lingering heat from the sun still warm on his face. The memory of the desert and the stranger that dwelled there had begun to fade, something that seemed so far out of reach-- just like sleep. He turned over in his bed and pulled the blankets closer around him, the sound of thunder rolling far off in the distant. 

He took to counting his breaths, waiting impatiently for his limbs to slowly relax and go numb with sleep, his brain too tired to count any longer before he finally fell into the world of dreams.

When he opened his eyes, instead of finding his bedroom, Hanzo was met with one of the most beautiful views he had ever seen. The gorge was shaded in dark brown shadows, the reds and oranges in the sky so brilliant it nearly stole his breath away. The day was coming to a close, the heat mild and bearable, sitting next to his companion in comfortable silence.

They watched the sun go down from atop the Panorama with their legs dangling off the side and two glasses of sun tea sitting between them. Hanzo appreciated the sweet taste, remembering not to call it iced tea because ‘it ain’t the same thing’, as Jesse had corrected him. Still, he idly sipped and watched the desert hues of pink, yellow, and orange paint the skyline. He found himself smiling. He’d seen pictures of it in photos and movies, but to see it with his own eyes was a real treat.

Once the sun began to slide further towards the horizon, the soft colors exploded into vibrant pinks and oranges and purples that deepened as they reached for the navy blue taking over with night drawing near. The stars eagerly came out to play, white pin pricks against the growing darkness and groups of clouds.

“You were right,” Hanzo hummed, eyes still on the horizon where the gorge was growing darker with each passing moment. “The sunsets here are beautiful.”

This had his friend grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Told ya so, Hanzo! An’ just wait til all the stars come out, not much light pollution out here.”

As if the building heard his words about light pollution, the bright red neon sign next to them kicked on, the bulbs humming softly. Hanzo snorted at their luck and leaned back on his hands as the two were washed in the red light, though it did nothing to cloud their view of the remaining sunset.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Jesse didn’t wait for him to protest or ask questions, climbing up to his feet and shuffling off somewhere out of sight.

He simply waited and let his feet swing over the edge of the building, eyes up. Hanzo didn’t even hear him return and only noticed when he heard the twang of the guitar Jesse held in his arms. He set to work tuning it, smiling all the while and turning the knobs at the head.

“Do you actually play?” While Hanzo didn’t doubt him, he still smiled with mild amusement. 

“Why of course I do, sweetheart. Why else would I be holdin’ this thing?”

That was a fair point. He hummed and shrugged with nothing to say to that. Jesse continued to tune the guitar until satisfied, testing the sound by strumming a few chords before he fell into a rhythm of a wordless song. Hanzo turned to watch him, impressed that the man’s large hands could be so dexterous around the guitar neck or when he plucked individual strings.

“You don’t play anythin’, do ya?” Jesse asked, eyes on the instrument to keep his concentration.

“No, music wasn’t part of our extra curriculum.”

“Oh, and what was?”

“Kenjutsu and kyūdō-- swordsmanship and archery,” Hanzo sighed, rubbing his calloused hands together. They still hurt from training with his brother the other day. “Though, not nearly as often anymore. School and work get in the way.”

“School? Work?” Jesse raised an eyebrow while slowing his pace in the music.

Hanzo slumped back on his hands, looking up at the sky and clouds that were beginning to form. “College, for business management. As for work,” he paused to consider his words carefully. “Family business, my father for wishes me to take over in the next few years. Graduation is only a couple years away, but I've been apart of the board since I was eighteen.”

Jesse let out a slow whistle, abandoning the strings so he could flick his hat up and lean on the body of the guitar. “Damn, never pegged you as some fancy pants businessman, Hanzo.”

“Me, either.” He sighed again. “There are worse fates, I suppose.”

“Aye, that there are,” Jesse confirmed with a solemn nod.

The two lapsed into content silence once again, save for Jesse's guitar and the hum from the florescent light bulbs beside them. No one ever seemed to leave the Panorama nor enter, but that wasn't something Hanzo actively paid attention to. He was too focused on what little of the stars he could make out between that clouds were rolling in.

Hanzo never suspected the desert could grow so cold after nightfall. He shivered, arms crossing to hold himself while he listened to the guitar and Jesse's low singing. He didn't recognize the song, but he followed the tale of a cowboy in the lyrics, and then another about a man wanted dead or alive, and another, and another. Jesse kept going, strumming and singing and knocking the heel of his boot against the side of the roof to keep the rhythm.

Far off across the gorge a storm was brewing, the once starry sky blocked out with a dark haze floating over the mountains where rain started falling. Lightning struck in beautiful but deadly arches across the horizon, the white patterns standing out for several moments as the atmosphere raged. 

Hanzo counted the seconds until the sound of thunder rolled by-- 10 seconds.

Jesse’s hand came to a stand still, holding the strings to silence them as more lightning flashed and the thunder followed again after just a few seconds.

“It'll be here soon,” Jesse hummed, fingers gently picking at the strings again as his other hand held down chords. “Probably should head outta here.”

Hanzo lost track of how long they'd been on the roof of the Panorama, but honestly he didn’t feel the need to leave just because of some rain. He sat through worse storms than the one barreling towards them.

“Are you afraid of a little rain, Jesse?” He posed the question, head tilted to the side with both ankles crossed and slowly swinging his feet.

His cowboy friend didn’t answer him right away, but he set the guitar on the other side of him away from the two. “Nah, don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of a little rain,” he mused. “But, what I am afraid of is the lightnin’ and the fact that this here roof is metal plated and we ain’t grounded. One bolt and we’re toast.” He wrapped a hard knuckle on the metal he spoke of and it thunked heavily.

While he wasn’t afraid of rain, he wasn’t so sure about lightning. “I suppose we should head inside then. It’s been getting colder as it is.” Hanzo shivered as if to emphasis his words, his jinbei not holding up against the desert evening and wind from the storm that grew ever closer.

Despite the wind picking up and clouds blacking out the once visible night sky, the air between Hanzo and his friend shifted, and immediately drew his attention to the lowered hat and face he could not see properly. The neon lights from the diner sign meant nothing when the sun was still setting, and yet now in the growing dark, looking at Jesse bathed in red light bubbled something in his stomach that he feared more than the lightning or any storm.

“Yeah, I supposed.” Jesse’s voice sounded far off, and he still hadn’t made a move to stand or even looked up yet. It was unnerving.

A gust of wind billowed up around them, tossing Hanzo’s ponytail and golden scarf. It knocked the hat right off Jesse’s head and sent it sailing off towards the gorge, hair rustling the strong breeze.

“You should leave, Hanzo.” His voice was deep and did not sit well with him.

The florescent red sign beside them suddenly flickered out and left the two in darkness. A bolt of lightning ripped through the air above them, everything bathed in bright light for a few seconds with the thunder hammering into his skull. The storm was directly overhead now. He felt dazed, blinking past the white spots in his vision and fighting the ringing in his ears as the rain began to fall in heavy sheets and soaked him instantly. Hanzo opened his mouth to say something about going inside and reached out to his companion, but nothing quite made it out of his mouth.

His gut twisted and then leapt into his throat in the next moment when his vision cleared. It all happened so fast, and yet Hanzo felt like he was watching it in slow motion from over his shoulder in third person.

Jesse finally looked up at him, and he could clearly see his face set hard and staring past him as if he wasn't there. His right eye was glowing red. Both his hands came up to shove Hanzo, sending him off the roof and into the void below, the pure shock from it jerking him awake.

Hanzo’s eyes shot wide open and his chest heaved like he’d just broke the surface after a long dive. His stomach was still tangled in knots and the sensation of falling and he felt sweat roll down the back of his neck as he stared past the open bedroom window. Rain beat against the glass, lightning danced across the night sky, oh so quickly followed by thunder. The air around him felt heavy with a presence he could not put his finger on.

He tore his gaze from the window to search his room, only to come face to face with two pairs of glowing yellow eyes that bore into him and blues scales that hummed and sparked with electricity.

_’Sleep,’_ the dragons commanded.

And then sleep was all Hanzo knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez, I hope Jesse and Hanzo are okay... 
> 
> Ohmygosh! I'm so sorry for taking almost a month to update! Work's been busy as heck and probably will be for another month or so... thank you for your patience, my friends!
> 
> Thank you all for taking the time to read and for all the lovely comments! Melts my heart <33 weh
> 
> And a special pair of thank yous to my dear friends [Markus](http://woofling.tumblr.com/) and [Tobi](http://voibi.tumblr.com/) for encouraging me and cheering me on and letting me ramble on and on about my headcanons and ideas for this story... you two are the best ;;w;;/~<3


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